


Resurrection

by Inky_Blackheart



Series: Crimson [6]
Category: Dracula (1931)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Character Death, M/M, References to Frankenstein, Regret, Resurrection, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27132638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky_Blackheart/pseuds/Inky_Blackheart
Summary: "Regrets, the Count supposed, came naturally the older one became. That was true for both humans and his kind. To be alive was to be cursed with the knowledge that the past was unchangeable, and that the consequences for your actions were out of one’s control. However, Dracula had been alive for longer than any mere man, and nothing was out of his control. Death included."How the movie should have ended.
Relationships: Dracula/R.M. Renfield
Series: Crimson [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562140
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Resurrection

Ressurection

Regrets, the Count supposed, came naturally the older one became. That was true for both humans and his kind. To be alive was to be cursed with the knowledge that the past was unchangeable, and that the consequences for your actions were out of one’s control. However, Dracula had been alive for longer than any mere man, and nothing was out of his control. Death included.

The once-proud vampire pulled himself across the floor of Carfax Abbey by his long, splintering fingernails. Each inch seemed to be a million miles, with the giant hole in his chest leaking ash onto the ancient floor. The Count believed highly in himself, for no man was his equal, but even he was surprised that he’d managed to vanish away before the stake could get all the way through his heart. Or what remained of it. The poor organ was shrivelled, blank and broken, literally and figuratively. He’d thrown away so much in pursuit of a woman who did not want him, including the most loyal thrall he’d ever known. He’d been so foolish. He’d allowed himself to let go of his tightly held control for one minute, one stupid, selfish moment...

He needed Renfield, and he’d killed his most loyal servant like swatting a fly.

Renfield’s open eyes stared at him accusingly from the bottom of the stairs. His mouth was open, and a small spider crawled out of his gaping maw. Dracula winced. This was not how his Renfield should have died. Should the humans have killed him, he would have died with honour, defending his master. Still, all things died. Renfield would have died regardless. It was the curse of human existence.

But Renfield didn’t have to be human anymore. Dracula could save him. He could serve him forever. They could be together forever.

Dracula dug one cold hand into Renfield’s chest and pulled himself over the man. He gently shut the man’s mouth, leaving it only open enough for the smallest drop of blood to get through. It was all he needed.

Dracula licked a stripe up the side of Renfield’s neck. He still had his familiar human scent, one of linseed oil, shampoo, and sweat. His taste still sent shivers up Dracula’s spine. How beautiful he was, in death, and in life. Dracula’s fangs just kissed his neck, preparing to bite.

The blood had not yet cooled. It was still warm, though it was not flowing through his veins. It was sitting in the capillaries, pooling with the force of gravity. It smelled rusty, metallic, in a way fresh blood did not. It made the vampire a little sick to think of drinking it, of taking it into his body. He was running out of time. He took a deep breath, one he did not need, the last vestiges of his humanity, and dug his fangs in.

He had to dig a bit, dig through the hard, dead tissue, to get to the blood. But when he found it, he could drink his fill. Without the heart, there was no risk of it spurting out. He could drain the man dry if he wasn’t careful.

Dracula felt his body knitting itself back together. Life returned to him in force. He sat up, straddling his beloved servant, stroking his cheeks. As it often did when he fed, his sex rose to life, rubbing against the front of his dirty pants and his servant’s hard stomach. Renfield had given him a gift. It was time to return it.

Dracula bit into his own wrist. This was risky, but it was the only way. He let one perfect stream of blood flow out, black blood, the only thing left inside him. He held it over Renfield’s mouth, cooing at him, letting the blood slide down his tongue into the back of his throat. He wouldn't quite be a vampire, but he would be Renfield again.

“Drink from me,” Dracula whispered, “Drink from me and live forever. Drink from me and we shall become one.”

The words were not magic, but a ritual in their own way. It was what his sire had told him, and what he’d told all his wives. He’d even told...the woman. It was both the gift and the curse he could offer the world, this immortality—but at a price, only few could pay.

Renfield had been willing to pay it.

That was reason enough.

#

“Mas...ter?” Renfield asked, his milk-white eyes blinking as he sat up. “Master...Dracula. What happened? Where am I?”

“The humans killed you,” Dracula lied effortlessly. “They came for us, jealous of our great power. They hurt me, too, as I tried to save you. Oh, my love. Look what they’ve done to us.”

Renfield got to his feet, looking around Carfax, taking in the darkness around them like he was seeing the place for the first time. In a way, he was. His ghoulish eyes were better and brighter than his human ones. “Where did they go?”

“They left once they thought us defeated.” It wasn’t a complete lie. The Hellsing, the horrible Harknesses, they’d all vanished once they’d seen him defeated. This was why he’d put his victims on pikes. If they weren’t dead after he was done with them, they’d die there soon enough. “I had hardly the strength to crawl to you. But I had to. I had to save you.”

“How...how am I alive?”

“I’ve made you a fledgling.” He had, in a way, in that Renfield could be a full vampire, eventually. Once Dracula regained his power. There were few differences between ghouls and fledglings anyway. “One day, you will be a mighty vampire, just as I am.”

Renfield’s eyes lit up. “Really?” He seemed more alive than he had even moments before. “You...and I...will be together?”

“Yes,” Dracula smiled. It was a predator’s smile. “Forever.”

Renfield’s face fell. “Where’s...where’s Mina?” Renfield asked, his eyes narrowing as he watched Dracula rise to his feet.

“She betrayed us. I’ve finished with her, my dear.” He strode towards Renfield. Renfield took a step back, whether in fear or in awe, it didn’t matter. Dracula wrapped him in his cape, pulling him close. “You are all I need. Forgive me, for not seeing this until it was nearly too late.”

Once he was wrapped in the soft black velvet, Renfield melted into Dracula’s arms, just as the vampire knew he would. He nuzzled into Dracula’s broad chest, hugging him more freely than he ever had. Dracula purred. These were the moments he revived the man for. These moments of absolute worship. “Master, I...I can scarcely believe it, I’m alive, you’re alive, oh master, I love you so...”

Dracula absorbed the praise like it was blood. He kissed the top of Renfield’s head, breathing in his slick, sweaty hair. He wanted to stay like that forever, in the dark of the Abbey, holding Renfield, allowing himself to be loved. But he knew the sun would soon rise, and he had limited time to spare.

“Come, my sweet. We must away. I fear they may come back, and try to strike us down once again.” Dracula said, gesturing to the door.

“How will we....isn’t it nearly daytime? Can’t we just stay in here for a few moments more?” Renfield begged. “We’ll wait until the sun goes down once more, and then leave here together. As it was always meant to be."

Though Renfield was a mere ghoul, his power was terrifying. Dracula knew, looking down into his bright, milky eyes, that he couldn't deny the man anything. “Yes,” he said, kissing Renfield deeply. “Whatever you wish, my child.”

#

Something felt off about the sex.

Renfield was grateful to be the sole recipient of his master’s affections again, but something about it felt...wrong. His body was too pliant, not like his master’s. It was easier for the vampire to push in, especially with the absence of lubrication, and that surprised him. He’d anticipated being as hard and unyielding as his Dracula. Perhaps it was an aspect of being a fledgling he'd soon grow out of.

It was also odd to him that Dracula refused to touch his neck. Whenever Dracula so much as brushed over it, he pulled back, as if burned. He had such guilt in his eyes, but he held Renfield tighter, slamming into him faster. He wanted to tell Dracula to just do it, to kill him a second time, but he only met each thrust with equal force. It wasn’t pleasurable, not like it used to be. It burned. It ached. There were no sparks going up his spine, and the pleasant warmth that once sat in his loins had cooled to lukewarm. It didn’t feel as good anymore, not physically. But he felt so much closer to his master now. He felt so much more wanted. It took a mere flick of the wrist for him to come undone, spilling between both of them, Dracula following shortly afterwards.

This wasn’t unusual, but still. His body didn’t relax the same after climax. He still felt tense, like rigour mortis. He still ached. His throat was dry, and his eyes were wet. He lay on the fresh Transylvanian dirt next to his master, and it felt, listening to him snore, and it felt....wrong. It all felt wrong.

Was this what love was? Were the morals of the rest of the world catching up to him?

He supposed he had time to get used to it. He and Dracula were together forever now. Or so the vampire told him.

He’d wanted this, since meeting the Count all those months ago.

And he’d received it. He’d asked, and he received. He should, by all rights, be happy.

Did Dracula really think Renfield so naive, not to remember how he had died? Did he not think that Renfield’s vision of the count strangling him for daring to question his choices would linger after death? Did he really think a lie so blatant would satisfy him? But then, Dracula said he loved him. Called him his love. Perhaps he felt guilt for it. Who could know the truth for sure?

It was funny, how little that changed things for him. It made him wonder just how damned he really was, to remember distinctly how he’d died at the hands of his master, but still be happy to be beside him, to sleep next to him, to be his only love.

For now, something in Renfield whispered, until he tires of you again.

Renfield smiled at that. He was no longer a mortal. If Dracula ever did tire of him...he now knew the count could hurt. That the count could die. If Dracula ever left him...he’d leave the earthy realm as well. Of that, Renfield was sure.

One more selfish, stupid moment, and Dracula would be gone forever. There was power in that. Renfield snuggled back in and went back to sleep. He no longer felt how cold Dracula was in comparison to his own flushed, heated skin. They were both cold-blooded monsters now. Perhaps Dracula created something that he could not fully control. And, like Frankenstein and his unfortunate creature scant years prior, if he did not meet Renfield’s needs...

Well.

There were many, many lost ships, and there was so much of the inky black sea, so many unfathomable abysses. Renfield had looked into them, in his heart of hearts, and the abyss had looked back. Renfield had not blinked. He’d only smiled and allowed himself to be drawn ever deeper in.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was a little dark, wasn't it? 
> 
> A note: Dracula comes back for sequels, so I didn't feel it too unreasonable to have him use his vampire powers to escape death. 
> 
> "Drink from me and live forever" isn't from Dracula, and is from the poster of Interview with the Vampire, the adaptation of Anne Rice's novel of the same name. Which I also loved, and thought it was fitting here. 
> 
> My Tumblr: https://inkyblacc.tumblr.com/


End file.
